One Poem by Kari A Flickinger

Written in response to this month’s Special Challenge.

The End of the World as the End of Tranquility

It hardly matters
when we wander by—our skulls heavy
in our carven heads.

Our platitudes drip
from our standards like life
has from the limbs of a cove of clover

that has been
trampled in a lane.

The bold whim of the bumble
bee or the silent skulking

but toothed—are inconsequential
as they

tear themselves apart or
are rended—drunk on sheaves
of lettered phrases

at the plundered well—the space between
open eyes—that

overall scheme
hardly matters as we thread
through countryside.

Our hands so soft in their holding.

The world so big and known.


Kari A. Flickinger was a 2019 nominee for the Rhysling Award, and a finalist in the IHLR 2018 Photo Finish. Her poetry was published in Written Here, Riddled with Arrows, Door-Is-A-Jar, BHP, and Mojave Heart Review among others. She is an alumna of UC Berkeley. Find her: @kariflickinger.

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